


The Children and the Deer Faced Man

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Bedtime, Creepy, Gen, Hannibal's nurturing side, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw Toothache's art on tumblr, and I got inspired. Set in an alternate universe where peculiar children are cared for by a monster with the horns of a stag.</p><p>http://tooothaches.tumblr.com/post/61482714375/hannibals-home-for-peculiar-children</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Children and the Deer Faced Man

The Deer Faced Man looked a the clock on the mantelpiece. “Time for bed, little ones.”

Will put his book back on the shelf and nudged Randall from where he was resting at his feet. Randall stretched and scratched his ear. He didn’t care for reading.

The Deer Faced Man picked up Abigail from where she had been playing and led the other children into the bathroom to wash. Will took his hand.

Two boys and two girls. Three dark and one fair. Three children, and one beast, and a Deer Faced Man in dark suits. The Man set Abigail down and helped Randall off with the muzzle he wore. He had to brush his teeth.

Will often thought he wouldn’t like to wear a muzzle, but he knew Randall didn’t mind. Randall didn’t like to speak anyway.

“Can we have a story?” Abigail asked as she washed her face.

The Man smiled indulgently. “If you wash up and go to bed without any fuss.” He was helping little Miriam into her nightgown and brushing her hair. She only had one arm and couldn’t do it by herself. She was a wide-eyed girl, and never spoke.

When he was done, he poured medicine from a bottle into a measuring spoon. Will looked down. He had hoped he had forgotten. But he didn’t want to ruin Abigail’s story, so he didn’t complain. He held still while the Man put it to his lips, and he swallowed it all. He had to rinse his mouth out with water afterwards, though. The medicine tasted like ashes and dreams.

“Good boy,” said the man, running a hand through his hair. Will leaned into the touch. He was feeling sleepier already. The Deer Faced Man smiled and carried him into the bedroom. It was dark and full of shadows. The Man said too much light would keep them awake. The walls were paneled in deep, ancient wood, and the curtains were red, like blood.

He laid Will on the big bed and slipped clothing off, replacing it with soft pajamas, blue and gray. Will tried to dress himself, but his arms and legs were too heavy. The Deer Faced Man tucked him under the blankets, lifting Abigail up to take her place beside him. Will always slept better with her near.

Will and Abigail shared a bed, but Miriam had her own, and Randall slept in a cage on the floor. The Man tucked Miriam in and patted Randall one more time before locking him in for the night. Randall curled on his blanket, yawning and settling his head on his hands. Miriam stared quietly, with the same blank curiosity she usually showed. The Man sat down beside Will, his weight making the bed dip slightly.

“Now,” he said, “you have been good. What kind of story should I tell?”

“A true one,” Will said. Normally, Abigail picked, but the words came unbidden to his lips.

The Man looked at him with something like approval. “Very well,” he said, “A true story.” He thought for a moment. “There was winter and ice. There was a child in an empty house. There was a brother and sister. The ice was bigger than the children, and it consumed them. There was a song made from their devourment, that kept playing, and playing, and playing.” He had a good voice for bedtime stories. It was low and soft, and he drew out the vowels. Ah-is. Pleh-ying.

“The children were alone now, so they set off through the woods.”

“I thought the children got eaten,” said Abigail.

“Ah, but these were the children in the song.”

She nodded slowly in understanding.

“They wandered long through the night, passing as quietly as they could, for the woods are full of things that must not be touched, and things that must not be seen. Morning found them deeper in the woods and no closer to help, so they walked on. Every day, they heard a stag calling to them. The girl lost her feet. The boy’s hands caught fire. One day, they came to a well, and they lowered down the bucket to get water. When they drank, they heard the voice of the stag, clearer than ever. He was saying their names. They turned around and saw him behind them. He was tall and handsome, with a crown of antlers.”

The story seemed to be over for now. The Man’s stories often started and ended abruptly.

“Like yours?” asked Abigail. She was the most awake of them. Randall and Miriam had already nodded off, and Will wasn’t sure whether he was asleep or not.

“Very much like mine,” said the man.

She thought for a moment. “Why don’t we have horns like you?”

“You are still young, little love.” He pulled the blanket snug around her and Will, making a little cocoon. “These things take time.”

“So we’ll have horns when we’re older?”

He kissed her head. “The loveliest horns in the forest.”

And that was all Will knew before darkness covered him over.


End file.
